


Made In Heaven

by measure_for_measure



Category: Queen (Band), Queen - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Slow Romance, Smut, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-10 09:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20133391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/measure_for_measure/pseuds/measure_for_measure
Summary: Walking in the park, you have a surprising (but pleasant) encounter that leads to something more.





	1. Chapter 1

You stood very still, balancing on a narrow rock ledge that surrounded a small lake. Lilypads drifted on its surface, disturbed only by ducks and rowboats. It was a quiet day in the city, if cities can ever really be quiet. Peering down into the water, you watched some tiny fish darting in and out of algae. You smiled. Stepping down and continuing along the well-packed gravel path around the lake, you came to a narrow wooden bench beneath a draping willow tree. Nestled along a small side path, you sat and watched people pass by in the near distance. 

It had been a neutral day, neither especially bad nor good. Work got out early, so you walked to pass the time. Your flat was just across the street. You closed your eyes, letting the sunlight filter in through the branches of the tree and keeping you just warm enough to be comfortable. Your wallet was tucked safely in your back pocket, and you were too trusting of strangers. Sleep began to drift over you… 

“Mind if I sit here?” A voice that you swore you recognized asked. 

You hauled yourself out of your groggy half-sleep, pulling yourself upright. “Sure, I don’t mind.” You blinked your eyes to clear them, and squinted at the man who sat down next to you. “Say, do I know you?” 

He scanned your face, “Well I don’t think I recognize you, but I will now.” 

“Oh!” Surprised, your mind finally caught up with reality. “Sorry, you don’t know me at all, but I know you because you’re in Queen.” You nodded with finality, holding it together only because you liked to think you were a generally level-headed person. 

“Right,” Roger Taylor winked at you, “do you usually sleep on park benches?” 

“Er, no, actually,” you flushed, “I live right across the way. I was just enjoying the nice weather.” 

“By sleeping?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Well that wasn’t actually the original plan,” you felt like you were digging yourself into an early grave. “Aren’t you afraid of being swamped by crazy fans?” 

Pulling off his sunglasses, he crossed his legs and generally made himself at home on the remaining ¾ of the park bench. “Depends on who they are!” 

You rolled your eyes, “Mhm. Anyhow, how is your day going?” 

He cocked his head to one side, “Not bad, not bad. Yours?” 

You shrugged, “I’d say the same. Not too much going on right now, I’m just going with the flow.” 

He nodded. There was silence for a moment, a slight breeze shifting the branches above your heads. Roger glanced down at his watch, “I’m guessing there’s nobody waiting for you back home?” 

You bit back a smile, “No, not for a week or two. And if that was your way of asking if I’m single, it was very smooth.”

He grinned, “Ah, you’re onto me now!” His bright blue eyes met yours. 

“And do you have anyone expecting you?” You forced the words out, nervousness building in your chest. 

“Not yet,” he leaned in a little. 

You frowned, “So you do?” 

He leaned back again, smiling, “No love, nevermind.”

“Hmm,” you built up courage before you spoke again, “I’m just going to say this now--I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl. I’m just saying, please don’t take that personally.” You bit the inside of your cheek, watching him closely for a reaction. 

A half-smile flashing across his face, he nodded, “That’s alright--I’m glad you know how to stick up for yourself, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled back. “Do you live around here, or are you just passing through?” 

“Both,” he looked up at the willow branches above your heads, “I have a flat here, but we’re about to leave on tour,” he shrugged, “just the way it is.” 

You nodded, comfortable with the pauses in conversation. You looked out at the small stream that ran beside the bench; an offshoot of the lake. Not quite lost in your thoughts, you relaxed. One of your legs brushed against his, and you were suddenly very aware again. Out of the corner of your eye you looked over at him to see if he had minded. He was just staring out at the stream, the wind ruffling his blonde hair ever so slightly. He looked practically angelic, you thought. Your heart beating a little faster, you let yourself relax again so that your leg was resting against his. Staring straight ahead, you almost jumped when he spoke again. 

“We just met, but would you come around for dinner? At my place.” 

Your heart really leaped this time, “Oh, uh, sure?” Your parents had always warned you never to go to strangers’ houses for a first date, but he wasn’t really a stranger, was he? Oh well. You decided to throw caution to the winds, “I’d love to.” You smiled, giddily. 

“Just don’t expect fine cuisine, all I’ve got is old pizza,” he grimaced, “I wasn’t actually expecting company.” He cut you off before you could start to protest, “Don’t even think about it.” 

“Oh, well I guess I won’t then,” you laughed, and met his gaze again. He practically took your breath away, and you’d hardly known him an hour. 

Roger started to lean in towards you again, brushing a stray strand of your hair out of your face. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” your voice came out as a whisper, and you could feel your cheeks burning. “So are you.” You cringed internally. 

He just smiled a very soft smile, and caressed your cheek with his fingers. “Can I kiss you?” 

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry, “I--I don’t know--” you wanted to lean into his hand, to touch him, but, “you move too fast for me, I’m just not ready yet I think,” you already felt the regret of a missed opportunity building inside you. 

He pulled away again, “That’s alright love,” but you could see a hint of disappointment in his eyes. 

The two of you sat in silence for a moment until the awkwardness passed, then let the hours slip by in talking about your lives & loves & dreams--in less poetic terms, getting to know eachother. 

It was almost evening by the time he asked, “Shall we go back to my place?” 

You laughed, “Shall? You sound like a proper gentleman!” 

“Well,” he started to protest, but this time you cut him off. 

“Oh, I’m not being serious--and yes, we shall.” Putting on your best posh voice, you stood up and offered him your arm. 

“Hm, quite right,” putting his sunglasses back on, he stood--taking your arm for a moment before slipping it around your waist as you walked. 

You blushed again, surely breaking some kind of record. “How far is it to your place?”

“Not far,” he glanced over at you, “in a hurry to get me alone?” He laughed.

“No! I mean not no, but yes, but not like that!” You made some general amount of sense, but not much. 

He raised his eyebrows, “I’ll take your word for it then love!” 

Time passed quickly as the pair of you walked down the London streets and byways, finally ending up through the door of his rather luxurious flat. 

“Wow,” you glanced around you, “this place really is very nice.” You glanced around a corner and saw the doorway to a balcony, “Oh, how nice! I’ve always wanted a balcony.” You laughed to yourself, “Mostly so I can drape myself on the railing and sing.” You turned back around to see Roger looking at you with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. It was gone again as quickly as it had appeared.   
“So do we actually get to eat?” You teased, perching yourself on a bar stool-esque chair by the kitchen counter. 

“Right,” he busied himself in the kitchen, which consisted of putting cold pizza slices on paper plates, “eat it while it’s hot!” 

You snorted, “right.” 

With the pizza finally consumed, and the dishes ‘washed’, you lowered yourself onto a very comfortable couch. “Thank you for inviting me over and giving me dinner and everything, I really appreciate it.” You smiled at him as he sat down next to you. “This has been really nice.” 

“You make it sound like you’re leaving already,” amusement danced across his face. 

“Oh, no! I mean, unless you need me to go or something,” you started to protest, worried.

“No love,” he smiled gently, “stop worrying.” 

“Is it annoying?” You half-teased. 

“Absolutely,” he couldn’t remain serious, and a grin broke upon his face. 

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, his smile contagious. 

“So,” he looked at you with a new intensity in his eyes, “is this slow enough?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, and all your (slightly fried) brain came up with was, “Yes, but what about my pizza breath?” 

He snorted, and then leaned in so you could feel his breath on your face when he spoke, “No worse than mine, love.” 

“Alright then,” you felt like you were melting as he ran his fingers through your hair, caressing your face and then cupping your cheek in his hand. He was hardly touching you, but he felt strong; safe. Your heart was in your throat, and every moment felt like forever, dripping with tension. 

He let his forehead rest against yours, “Is this alright?” 

You let out a laugh that was more of a sharp exhale, “It’s just a kiss Roger, get on with it.” 

“Well excuse me, love,” he laughed and you could feel the air on your lips, “but if I must--” and he tilted your head ever so slightly and gently pressed his lips to yours. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you felt like you were rising to a kind of ecstasy--strange for just a kiss. Pulling him closer, you let your arms wrap around his neck, your hand slip into his hair, your fingers tangle in the strands.

He pulled back for air for just a moment, then closed the kiss again, deeper this time, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer so you could feel the warmth of his body against your chest. 

And then it was over, your eyes slowly opening to look across at him, your heart still pounding. “That was amazing,” the statement seemed like it fell flat, you couldn’t quite describe what had just happened. 

Roger hummed in agreement, reaching over to smooth your hair that had been rumpled. “Want to stay the night?” His voice was lower, but not demanding. 

You bit your lip, conflicted for just a moment. “Yes, but I’m not ready for,” you paused, “like I said earlier, I don’t want to be a one-night stand. I don’t want to be just for sex.” You raised your chin, like you were expecting to have to morally defend yourself. 

He only smiled. “I know, love.” Standing up, he took your hands in his, looking down at you with that emotion you couldn’t quite place, “come to bed?” 

You stood too, and let yourself lean into him. “Yes.”


	2. Body Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't sleep, and things take a not completely unexpected turn.

You awoke in the middle of the night, sweat dampening your clothes and hair. You suddenly felt suffocated by the room, the tangle of sheets, and Roger’s arms around you. He hadn’t made any moves on you, respecting your wishes, but it still all seemed like too much.  
Slipping carefully out of his loose embrace, you walked out onto the balcony. Wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the nighttime chill, you looked out at the city below you. 

In the windows of the apartments across the street a few lights glowed dully through curtains, but there wasn’t any movement. The streetlights were lit in vain--the only things in the street were a few crumpled white papers blowing along the concrete. A shadow shifted in an alleyway. 

Sinking down into a large chair, you rested your chin in your hands. What were you doing here? You began to question things, never a good idea so late at night. Roger would forget you as soon as he left again--you certainly weren’t special, and you couldn’t lie to yourself about that at least. A faint smile flickered across your face. At least it was wonderful now. “Be merry, for you may die tomorrow,” you whispered to the city and yourself. 

Suddenly feeling a presence behind you, you whirled around to see Roger standing in the doorway. His hair was tousled, and his clothing rumpled. He didn’t have to speak, his eyes asked the question. 

“I woke up, and I couldn’t fall back asleep,” you paused, “I’ve just been thinking out here.” 

He sat in the matching chair beside you, pulling it closer. He brushed back his hair, blinking to clear his eyes of sleep, “Are you alright?” His words were slightly slurred, but his tone conveyed how serious he was. 

You shrugged, “Oh I think so, mostly.” The smile from before flickered on your lips again. “Maybe it’s just the mood of the night, but…” You thought about how to express how you were feeling, “I’m just going to tell the truth--you’re going to leave soon, and then, even if you were to try and go steady with me, you’d find another girl. You know that--you’re famous and you’re young and you’re stunning. I can’t lie to myself about that. It would be a wonderful romantic dream for us to stay together, but I don’t think it can happen.” Your heart rose up into your throat, and a streetlight below flickered out and died. 

Silence sat amidst the sound. 

He sighed heavily, looking down, choosing his own words. “You know love, you’re probably right.” He glanced over at you, then away. “But I’m damn well going to try to make it work.” He turned to face you, placing a hand on your knee. 

“You’re crazy,” you absently trailed your fingers along his hand, “we’ve known each-other for a day. You’d have to be mad to date someone so quickly.” You were talking to yourself just as much as to him. 

“And maybe I bloody well am,” he laughed, “but that hasn’t stopped me before.”

“I know,” you smiled, then took his hand in yours. “Do you mean it?” 

He didn’t hesitate, his other hand caressing your cheek, “‘Course I do.” 

You closed your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them he had leaned closer. “I’m glad,” you let yourself be drawn into his arms, “Secretly I hoped that this would happen.” You let your head rest on his shoulder, and your tiredness brought tears welling up. “But I’m also scared.” 

“I know love,” he rubbed your back, stroked your hair, “but it’ll be alright.”

You pulled back to look at him, taking in his face as if it was the last time you’d ever see him. "I'm definitely not complaining, but do you treat all of the girls like this?" He shook his head, "Only a few of them." He saw the disappointment on your face. "I move fast, but that's 'cuz... I feel fast." He grimaced. You laughed, "I know what you're trying to say." Your smile slipped away again, "So I'm not special then?" You knew you were digging for compliments, but you didn't really care. He looked at you in silence for a beat, "I think you are," he frowned, "I'm not sure why." Your heart jumped, but you quipped, "Must be because of my funny face." He laughed, shaking his head, "No," he ran his hand absently down your leg, "I think it's because... Because of you--your personality." "It's certainly not unique." He shrugged, "I think it's perfect. We just click." "Yes," you twisted your fingers in your lap, unsure of what to say, "Like a magnet?" He nodded, "Yeah." There was another pause in the conversation before he spoke again, "I know this is reckless, but I think I might love you.” 

You felt like you had stopped breathing, and your thoughts raced so fast that you couldn’t answer. You didn’t know what to say, but you wanted to say so many things all at once. 

“I’m sorry,” he looked troubled, and his embrace loosened. 

“No!” You protested, reaching out to gently touch his face. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that… I’m not upset,” you shook your head, “I want to say the same, but I feel silly.” You smiled. Then, overwhelmed with emotion, “Can I kiss you?” 

“Please.” 

You bit your lip, then leaned in and kissed him, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

He pulled you in closer, deepening the kiss. 

Acting on a whim, you slid out of your chair and straddled his lap, your chest pressing against his. You could feel his heart beating, racing.  
He bit your lower lip lightly, then broke the kiss to look at you. He touched his fingers to your lips; soft and reddened. His eyes moved down to your neck, and he caressed that too, like it was fine marble. You drew in a breath, letting your head tilt back. He stopped at your collarbone, his fingers sliding into your hair and massaging your scalp. Your eyes closed, shivers running down your spine. Then you felt his fingertips gently trace over your face, finally stopping to hold it gently. You opened your eyes, and met his. His gaze was intense, and your lips parted. 

“Roger?” Your voice refused to be anything more than a whisper. 

“I love you, and I want you.” His voice was low, raspy, and his hands moved to your waist. 

You could feel your heart pounding. “I--” you stopped, “I can’t say it,” your tone was full of desperation, “but I can show you.” A sense of confidence filled you as you leaned across and kissed him--desperate and passionate and fiery. You pulled away first, breathing heavily.  
The silence was thick, but with emotion. 

“You can have me if you want me.” Feeling safe in the dim light, you pulled off your shirt, dropping it to the ground beside you. “Do you?”

“God yes,” he had dropped back in the chair, his breath catching in his throat. “Come inside.” 

You pushed him back down, your hands staying on his chest. “Out here.” Your eyes dared him, “I want this to be on my terms.” There was a flash of vulnerability, and he saw it. 

“Alright love, I want you to feel safe.” He covered your hands with his, and you felt butterflies. 

“Thank you,” you looked down, the dominating mask falling away. 

Gently pushing your arms aside, he sat up and kissed you, softly. “Who do you want to be in charge?” 

You swallowed, “You, I think. I don’t know what to do--but I do want it. I realize I’m compromising my own ideals, but you’re different.”

“That’s alright,” he rubbed your arms reassuringly, “and I’ll do my best,” he grinned lopsidedly, a glint in his eye. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed, and you kissed him. 

His arms slipped around your waist, his hands cold on your bare skin. You gasped into the kiss, letting him turn it into a French kiss.  
You pressed yourself closer to him, slipping your fingers under his shirt to slide across his chest. He groaned a little into the kiss as you broke it to slide his shirt off over his head. You traced patterns over his abs as he moved to hold your waist. You ground down a little with your hips, and he moaned. 

“You’re a feisty one,” he pulled you back down and left a trail of hickeys down your neck to your breasts, his warm breath wafting over the bruises. 

You shuddered, realizing how sensitive your neck was. “Please,” you found yourself saying, “please just fuck me.” You locked eyes with him, and he ran his hands down your body. 

“If you say so,” he held you, “then take off your clothes.”

A small moan ripped out of you, and you stood up slowly. He stayed in the chair, legs spread out and arms crossed on his chest. You took off your pants slowly, and slid out of your undergarments. You stood there, unsure. 

He beckoned with two fingers, and you moved to stand before him. “God you look beautiful,” his eyes moved down your body, and he bit his lip. “Now come here.” 

Your breath catching, you straddled him again. Some of the confidence returning, you unbuttoned his jeans as he caressed your body.  
He moved your hands away, sliding the fabric out of the way and stroking himself just a little. 

You leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I’m on birth control, don’t worry.” You nipped his earlobe, and he turned his head to kiss you.  
“I want to lead again,” you trailed kisses from his lips down to his chest. 

He nodded, “I was trying to take it slow. Keep it tame.”

“I appreciate it,” you bit your lip. “But this is cathartic for me,” you smiled and left a hickey on his neck, hips sliding against his crotch.  
“Ah fuck,” he clenched his teeth, bucking into you. 

“What do you say?” You whispered into his ear, fingers teasing his hair. 

He groaned, unwilling to give in. 

“Well?” You lightly bit his neck, and moved your hips again. 

“Please,” he burst out, “please just fuck me.” 

“That’s better,” you reached down and stroked him, waiting until he was fully erect and then slowly sliding down onto him. “Shit,” you threw your head back, bracing yourself against his chest. 

His mouth had fallen open, and he reached up to touch your breasts, cupping them, sitting up to kiss them, licking them. 

Moaning, you held the back of his head, fingers in his hair. Then you moved a little, the balcony floor cold on your bare feet. “Oh god,” you had never been so aroused before in your life. Heat washed over you. 

Sinking back again, he gripped your waist, remembering that you were in control. 

You began to move faster, the muscles in your legs burning and only adding to the pleasure. 

“Damnit,” he closed his eyes, swallowed, opened them and gripped your thighs, “you’re so fucking hot.” 

You bit your lip, still moving, “Why don’t you help me out, lover boy?” You reached down, trailing your hands down your body to finger your clit, moaning. 

He squeezed your thighs tighter, starting to buck against you, moaning. “This better?” He growled, hands moving greedily over your skin to squeeze your ass. 

“Yes,” you threw your head back, massaging your clit faster, moving faster. 

Time passed in a haze of pleasure, lust, and sweat.

“Fuck,” he watched you, hands clenched by his sides. 

“Are you gonna cum?” You stopped moving, and he groaned, thrusting into you. 

“Yes, damnit,” his hands slipped around your waist, and he guided you up and down again. 

You kept moving for a minute or two, and then stopped just as he threw his head back, grunting. 

“What do you say?” You ran your hands over his chest, and carefully bent down and kissed him hotly. The kiss was wet and sloppy, and perfect. 

He growled, biting your neck, “I won’t say it.” 

“Hmm, too bad.” You started to slide off of him.

“Bloody hell woman, fine. Please.” He was panting, his pupils dilated. 

“Please what?” You sank back down on him. 

He clenched his teeth. “Please let me cum.”

“That’s what I thought,” you smiled, and moved faster, fingered your clit faster. You could feel your orgasm approaching, and Roger was thrusting up against you roughly, his hands grasping you desperately. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he arched his back, his body shining with a fine layer of sweat. 

You bit your lip hard, feeling your orgasm about to explode. “Cum for me,” you ordered, releasing your breath with a moan, feeling him throb inside of you. 

He grunted, bucking into you, gripping your hips so tightly it hurt, a loud moan ripped from the depths of his chest. 

You could feel warmth exploding within you, and it sent you over the edge with a sob that was almost a scream. It felt like you were paralyzed, your world turning black for a moment before you collapsed against his chest, throbbing and empty. You closed your eyes, exhausted in so many ways, still warm and basking in pleasure. 

He petted your hair, your back, whispered nothings in your ear. “You are so wonderful.” He laughed breathlessly into your hair, “I’m usually always on top.”

“Well surprise I guess,” you smiled against his chest, then shivered in the breeze. 

He felt it, “Let’s go back inside love, and wash up.”

“Mm,” you played with his hair. “Can’t we wait just a few more minutes?”

He shifted you so you were more comfortable. “A’right.” He left a light kiss on your lips. 

“Hey Roger?” 

“Mm?” 

“I think I love you too.” 

“I know,” and he kissed you.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is shipping a characterization of Roger Taylor's persona in the past--it is in no way meant to be connected to the Real Roger Taylor & his family.


End file.
